


something undone.

by CallicoKitten



Category: American Horror Story, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, F/M, Ghosts, Haunted Houses, Implied Torture, Infidelity, Lucifer is a dick, M/M, Multi, Murder, References to Suicide, Self Harm, Sort of anyway, the murder house, why would you move into a creepyass house in the first place
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-11-19 22:53:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallicoKitten/pseuds/CallicoKitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean takes an immediate dislike to their new house for more reasons than one. He takes an even stronger disliking to Sammy's new BFF Luc.</p><p>Turns out he's right on both accounts.</p><p>The Winchester's move across country after John screws up big time to get a fresh start. At first things seem to be going well but there's something off about the house, something terrifying, something that's going to tear them apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There really is no excuse for this and I apologise. I do however blame it all on Emily who planted this seed in my head and then nurtured it into this monstrosity. 
> 
> Age-wise; Dean is 19/20 and Sammy is around 16 (which I believe makes him underage in the US?)
> 
> Unbeta'd and feedback is welcomed! 
> 
> Warning in this part for one incident of animal cruelty (only implied)
> 
> Title from "Unbidden" by Rae Armantrout.
> 
> Enjoy :)

_The ghosts swarm. They speak as one person. Each loves you. Each has left something undone._

Dean takes an immediate dislike to the house for more reasons than one.

See the thing is, he’s a pretty easy going fella; he’s not too bothered about packing up and moving from Laurence to L.A. Sure, there are people he’ll miss like hell and it’ll be weird living so close to the coast but it’s not like he can’t drive up and visit people on weekends or holidays or whatever. Besides, it’s not he really _had_ anyone up there in _that_ sense of the word. He had friends, he had a girlfriend (or two) and it might sound a little cold but he’ll be okay, he’ll make new friends, he’ll find new girls (models or actresses now _there’s_ a thought) But he’ll never find a new family and that’s what this move is all about.

A few months back his dad did A Very Bad Thing and hell, Dean knows John Winchester is no saint but _damn_. Long story short John and Mary just barely made it through without a divorce and now they’re looking for a fresh start which involves packing all their stuff up, cramming him, his brother Sam and their dog Riot in to the Impala and driving twenty-six hours across country and like he said, he’s pretty cool with that.

What he’s not cool with is the ghoulish house his parents have picked out.

First off it’s big. _Real_ big. Way too big for a family of four and their hyper active collie dog. It’s one of those big old houses with too many empty rooms and a creepy-ass basement to boot. Now don’t get him wrong he did the whole sneaking-in-to-cemeteries-and-haunted-houses-thing for kicks as a kid but he doesn’t really fancy _living_ in one which brings him neatly to the second point.

He knows the overly peppy realtor is hiding something as soon as he meets her and then she goes and drops a bombshell about some kid Max who stabbed his dad and step-mom in the house. _Creepy_. Not like he believes in ghosts or anything but come on, that’s a little off putting, right?

His mom loves it though. He can see it by the way her face lights up as they’re led through the house and the way she runs her fingers across the polished wood banisters and sparkling kitchen surfaces. It’s all she’s really ever wanted, he thinks. A big, fancy house in a good neighbourhood with a happy family. And his dad just wants to see Mary happy again (even if buying this house will put them in to so much debt they’ll still be here by the time they’re eighty or whatever) 

And then there’s Sam. Sullen Sam who drags his feet and slouches and glares and won’t cut his hair and wears too-big hoodies so he can hide away. Sam hadn’t said a word during the drive down, he’s made it very clear that this move is not something he approves of. He didn’t want to leave his school and his friends and Jess (it’s adorable really, the kid thinks he’s _in love_ , he’s sixteen for chrissakes,) but then Marcy mentions the murder and his eyes go wide like it’s the coolest thing ever. 

Dean sighs as his father signs the papers in the kitchen, his mother is clapping her hands with glee and Sam’s almost smiling so he supposes it’s worth it, so he wonders off to find Riot. 

He finds the dog whining by the cellar door, “What’s up, Riot? Something down there?” 

The dog looks up at him with eyes that say _I have a bad feeling about this._

“You and me both, buddy.” Dean murmurs, guiding Riot back in to the kitchen.

___________

In hindsight Mary should have known. 

She was a hunter, godammit! 

But when she saw how beautiful the house was (how many empty rooms there were waiting to be filled) how John could easily set up a new garage, how many good schools there were for Sam, how many opportunities there were for Dean she got a little blindsided. 

In hindsight she should have a least performed an exorcism on the sly.

In hindsight, in hindsight.

___________

Sam picks the biggest room, closest to the top of the house, as far away from everyone else as he can be. 

He unpacks his stuff slowly and makes sure he slams everything very loudly just to remind them how awful this is. There are photos of him and Jess and photos of him and his friends and school awards (even if they are for ‘dorky’ things like Science and English and Math) He plasters them all over the walls and glares around hatefully at his new room.

This isn’t _fair_ dammit. It was his dad that screwed up, not him, so why are they all getting punished for it? He’s not like Dean. He can’t just drift into places and connect with people, he can’t just rebuild his life from scratch, it doesn’t work like that. He had friends and dreams and _Jess_ and now all he’s got are a few cardboard boxes and a chip on his shoulder.

He’ll be a freak again.

His brooding is interrupted by the untimely arrival of his mother with an armful of clothes balanced precariously on top of a box of books. He tries to remain glaring unhelpfully on the other side of the room but she teeters in the doorway, the whole pile swaying and his resolve crumbles.

“Lemme help,” he mumbles, crossing the room and taking the box from her easily.

“Thanks baby,” she says and smiles.

He hates her. It’s too hard to be mad at her. He puts the box on the bed and she takes up the clothes, crossing to the dresser and putting them away. “So your dad was thinking when we were done with unpacking we’d go out and find some nice place to eat, celebrate a little,” she says conversationally.

Sam grunts unenthusiastically. Family meals suck and always follow a similar path: John will drink and compare Sam to Saint Dean, Mary will argue with him, Sam will yell and probably break something and stupid Dean will try (and fail) to play peacekeeper. 

His mother sighs. “Look, Sammy, I know things have been rough lately and you’ve kind of got a rough deal out of it-”

“Too right,” Sam snarks.

She gives him a sharp look and he ducks away, unpacking the books and lining them up neatly on the shelves. 

“Things will get better,” she says quietly, almost desperately but he’s not Dean. He’s not going to comfort her and tell her everything’s fine when it’s not. 

“That’s what you _always_ say.” 

“I know, baby and I’m sorry. But we’re really trying this time.” She puts a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Tell you what tomorrow we’ll head out and get some new paint for your room, maybe some posters. How’s that?”

It shouldn’t make him feel better, he’s not a little kid anymore, the prospect of new things shouldn’t make him excited, but it does. He grunts again and she smiles.

“We’re leaving for dinner in twenty, okay?”

When she leaves he makes sure to slam the door extra loudly. 

_Stupid family_.

Things will only get worse when school starts in a month.

___________

Dean wakes up in a cold sweat that first night.

In his dream there had been a young man with neat dark hair and green eyes, a shot gun wound on his chest, bleeding through the soft blue shirt he was wearing. 

His room is depressingly empty, he’d never really realised how little he owned before. There are a few sporting trophies, a photo of him and uncle Bobby, a few family pictures, his high school diploma, a poster or two. 

Riot is scratching at the door, whining, probably because Sammy’s been steadfastly ignoring the dog since it tore up the love letter Jess wrote him (Dean shouldn’t find that funny but he totally does.) He rolls over, intending to scramble up and let the stupid dog in when he freezes.

He’s fairly sure there’s someone standing over his bed.

His heart thunders.

He flicks on the bedside light and the room is empty. 

Yeah, he’s definitely letting the dog in (and he won’t protest too much when the stupid thing clambers on to the bed with him) And it’s definitely not because he’s _scared_.

___________

It takes Sam all of ten minutes to realise that his new high school _sucks._ The kids are loud and (mostly) dumb, the teachers are hopelessly unprepared to deal with their classes and it’s too frigging hot. Plus since he started late he can’t be in any AP classes until after Christmas which is _way_ too long _and_ most of the clubs are already full.

He practically runs out of the school when the bell rings, not bothering to wait for the bus. He walks the twenty minute journey home and slams into the house noisily. He can hear his mom on the phone in kitchen and the TV humming quietly from the living room. His dad is at work. He stomps up stairs to dump his bag in his room (he’s painted it purple- he doesn’t particularly like the colour but when John surveys it and clenches his jaw he knows it’s done its job) before heading back downstairs clutching a book.

Dean’s sprawled out on the couch watching re-runs of _Star Trek_ and Sam drops himself in to one of the old armchairs.

“Hey squirt, how was school? Meet any hot chicks?”

Sam glares and Dean smirks, “No, not for you, for _me._ ”

“That’s illegal, Dean.” Sam mutters, pulling the book up. As soon as he does so Dean snatches it away from him and inspects the cover.

“ _The Bell Jar_ ,” he snorts. “Isn’t that like, for chicks?”

“Fuck you, Dean.” Sam spits, grabbing the book back.

Dean raises his hands in a placating gesture and smiles beguilingly. Sam wonders how much trouble he’d be in if he broke his brother’s teeth. He decides it’s not worth it. “’M going outside.” 

The house’s garden is big so Sam finds a cosy spot to read in easily. He hunkers down in the shade of an old tree, hidden from view from the house and relaxes, losing himself in Sylvia Plath’s novel until a shadow falls across him. He slams the book the shut and glares up at the intrusive figure, expecting it to be Dean come to bother him so more. 

But it isn’t.

There’s a boy standing over him, about his age, maybe a little older, around Dean’s age. His hair is ashen blonde, he’s dressed in loose blue jeans and a dark green shirt layered over a khaki coloured top. He regards Sam with cool blue, calculating eyes. “ _To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is a bad dream._ ” he says.

Sam scrambles up. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” The garden has high fences. This boy shouldn’t be here.

The boy smiles lazily. “Luc. I used to work for the family that lived here before you. I come here when I need to think.”

“They don’t live here anymore.” Sam says.

Luc chuckles, “I know.” And his gaze sweeps over Sam, intrusively, intimately. Sam wriggles uncomfortably. 

“Do you like it?” Luc asks and Sam stares at him. “The book, I mean.” He clarifies with a curl of his lip.

“Oh, oh.” Sam smiles sheepishly, “Yeah, I guess. It’s very poetic.”

“Mm,” Luc agrees. “Reading it for school?”

Sam colours a little. He’d already finished his assigned reading list over the summer but he’s not going to tell Luc that. “No.” 

Luc grins, “ _Good_ I love reading too. What’s your name?”

Sam smiles, “Sam Winchester.” 

“So Sam, what else do you like to read?” Luc asks and Sam thinks things might not be so bad here after all. 

___________

Mary’s in the kitchen when she hears peals of laughter drifting in from the garden. 

She’s chopping things for dinner and mentally planning out her next few days. She may have underestimated how much this house needed fixing up, at this rate she’d still be painting and tidying and re-doing by this time next year. There was no way they could afford to hire help and since Dean would be starting work next week and she’d be working pretty much alone.

Things had been better since they moved here.

John had found a job teaching at a military academy an hour’s drive away, he was working more hours than he had before but they’d both agreed it was for the best. It left him less time to drink, less time for his gaze to wander.

She crushes a clove of garlic a little too ambitiously and the juice spurts across the counter. “Shit,” she mutters, leaning over to tear off a square of kitchen towel. That’s when she hears the laughter.

Sam’s the only one who doesn’t seem happier here and she understands, she really does. It must have been rough for him to leave everything he’d ever known behind and start a new school. Sometimes she hates John for that (even though moving was her idea)Not that Sam had ever been the happiest child, so when she hears Sam laugh it takes her a little longer then it should have to recognise the sound. She cranes her neck, tries to spot him in their spacious garden. He’s out there alone, he must be on the phone to Jess or Brody or Andy or someone. He laughs again and she smiles, going back to her dinner preparations feeling a little less irate.

Sam crashes in to the kitchen half an hour later and he’s not alone. Alarm bells go off in Mary’s head. Sam definitely didn’t have anyone with him before. 

“Hey, Mom,” Sam says brightly. “This is Luc.”

“Hello, Mrs Winchester,” Luc says politely.

“Hi, Luc,” Mary says, eyeing the boy, “Are you a friend of Sam’s from school?”

Luc smiles sheepishly, “Ah, no actually. Sam caught me breaking and entering. I used to work for the people who lived here before you see and they let me come to the garden when I need to think. I didn’t know you guys had moved in already. Sorry.”

He sounds genuine and honestly, Mary’s just happy Sam has a friend. “That’s quite alright, Luc. I’m sorry about what happened to the Millers, were you close to them?”

Luc looks away. “I was friends with Max, you know before he-” he breaks off and Sam rubs his shoulder sympathetically.

Mary’s heart breaks a little. “Would you like to stay for dinner, Luc?”

“Oh no, I really couldn’t trouble you-”

“It’s no trouble, really. I always make too much anyway, right Sam?”

Sam smiles and nods and Luc brightens, “Oh, okay then.”

“Great. Well you’ve got about an hour or so before dinner so don’t get in to too much trouble.”

Sam gives her an ‘ _Oh-Mom_ ’ look that makes her heart sing and they scamper off upstairs.

___________

Dean decides he doesn’t like Luc almost as quickly as he decides he doesn’t like the house.

There’s just something about him that doesn’t sit right- maybe it’s the cool detachment in his blue eyes or the way he’s already got Sam wrapped around his little finger. Maybe it’s the way he’s just _too_ convenient; Sam needs a friend; Mom needs someone to help out around the house. He’s not sure what it is but something about the kid sets his teeth on edge.

His mother seems to be carefully avoiding looking the proverbial gift horse in the mouth and even his father seems to be okay with the boy (though that may just be because Sam actually greeted him for the first time in months) Riot shares his animosity and spends the whole meal snarling quietly from the corner until John puts him out (honestly Dean’s beginning to wonder if he and Riot are the only two sane ones left in the family) But for the first time in _forever_ Sam talks animatedly to his family so Dean sits back and holds his tongue. 

After dinner he heads outside to work on the ’64 Mustang he’s been fixing up only to find the dorky kid from next door sitting on the bonnet, swinging his legs. “Dammit Garth, can’t you find someone else to bug?”

“Nope!” Garth grins and attempts to jump down smoothly, landing in a pile of gangly limbs at Dean’s feet.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Well at least be quiet for once in your life, then.”

Garth ignores this and natters on to Dean about his school and about the girl he’s got a crush on and about whether he’ll be as tall as Dean when he grows up. By now Dean’s learnt to tune him out. 

“So what’s it like living in the Murder House?”

Dean looks up at that, “ _What_?”

Garth’s eyes widen and he trembles like an excited puppy, “Oh come on, Dean! You’ve lived here like a month; you can’t tell me you haven’t heard about this place yet?”

Dean eyes him suspiciously, “I haven’t.” He says gruffly.

Garth laughs, “Oh man! You need to do some research!” he looks like he’s about to fill Dean in on some (no doubt grisly) details but he stops, mouth hanging open as Luc strolls out of the house. “I’ve gotta go.” Garth mutters scurrying out of the yard and down the street to his house.

Dean blinks after him before turning back to Luc. 

Luc runs a hand along the bonnet of the mustang “This is a nice car.”

“Thanks,” Dean says stiffly.

For a few moments Luc surveys him. “You don’t like me,” he says slowly. “Don’t worry- I wouldn’t either. If my little brother suddenly befriended a stranger he met trespassing I’d be worried too.”

Dean knows Luc’s trying to bond with him; he knows this is what he did with Sam, with mom, played up to their weaknesses. It’s clever and makes Dean far more suspicious. “You have a little brother?”

Luc nods, “A few actually. And a little sister.”

“Then you won’t be offended if I ask you to stay the hell away from Sam.”

Luc grins, “Oh Dean, you know I won’t do that. He’s my friend. Besides, I’m going to start helping your mom out around the house. I’ll stay out of your way though, if that helps.” His voice is black velvet and Dean grits his teeth.

“If you hurt Sam-”

“Yes, yes,” Luc waves a dismissive hand. “You’ll maim me in an imaginative way.”

Dean drops the wrench he’s holding because he’s not sure he’ll be able to resist bashing Luc’s smug face in with it. He packs up his tool box and walks back up to the house, Luc watches him go.

___________

The first time Sam cut himself he was fourteen years old.

He just wanted _something_. Some form of release. Since then it’s become a ritual, things get too messy he pulls out John’s old cut-throat from under his mattress. Today the trigger was simple: a bunch of kids who just didn’t know when to quit. What makes it worse is that they’re a group of girls.

They corner him at lunchtime, usually he tucks himself away in the library but today they head him off.

“Hey freak,” their leader, a girl named Denver spits. “What’s life like in the Murder House? You shot your folks yet?”

Her sidekick, a blonde named Casey joins in, “Yeah, _freak._ Nerd.”

Sam wants to scream. Sam wants to hit them but he can’t because they’re _girls._ He pushes away from them after ten minutes of taunting and walks right out the front gate. He knows his parents will probably be called because he’s bunking off but right now he doesn’t care because he _needs_ to break something.

He sneaks into the house through the backdoor heads up to his room and pulls out the blade. He drags it along the soft pale skin of his underarm, watches the blood rush up and trail after the metallic silver. He presses it to his wrists, wonders what it would feel like to open them, to feel his blood rushing out of him. He wonders how long it would take to die.

“If you’re trying to kill yourself cut vertically. They can’t stitch that up.”

Sam jumps, dropping the razor. It clatters across the floor and he spins around, “ _Shit_ Luc! You scared me.”

Luc crosses the room, pulling a clean cloth from his back pocket. He takes Sam’s arm gently and wraps the cloth around the cut. “Why do you hurt yourself, Sam?” Luc asks quietly, searching Sam’s face.

Sam blanches and glances away, down at where Luc has bound the cut up and is pressing gently on it. “I dunno...” he mumbles hoarsely. “It’s an escape, I guess.”

“I don’t want you to do it anymore.” 

Sam yanks his arm away. He’s only known Luc a few weeks and all they really do is sit around and talk about music or books or bitch about school. Who’s he to judge him? “What do you care?” he snaps. 

Luc’s hand is still half raised. “You know I care.” He says softly. Sam glares at him for a few seconds then falls backwards on to the bed and sighs heavily. “Did something happen today?” 

“Just some kids,” Sam replies, bringing one arm up to cover his eyes. “Some stupid kids.” He feels the bed shift as Luc sits down beside him.

“Want me to beat them up?” 

Sam uncovers his eyes to see Luc smirking down at him. He chuckles, “No, that’s okay, Luc.”

“You know they don’t know anything, right?”

Sam sighs again and rolls so he’s facing the wall and Luc pokes him. “It’s not _you_ that’s the problem you know. It’s everybody else.”

“They think I’m a freak. Like I’m gonna turn out like that Max kid.”

Luc touches his arm soothingly. “Sam, of course you’re a freak. But all the coolest people are freaks. Like Kurt Cobain or Ian Curtis or Sylvia Plath.”

“All of them killed themselves, Luc,” Sam points out, turning to face him again.

Luc huffs, “Alright, once you’ve become a successful musician slash writer you have my permission to kill yourself, that alright by you?”

Sam smiles, “Can I get that in writing?”

Luc laughs and suddenly Sam has butterflies in his stomach (it reminds him of how he felt when Jess would twirl her hair around her finger or giggle in that silly way she had) “Sure, I guess. I’ll type it up sometime.”

Sam wonders briefly what it would be like to kiss Luc but he shakes the thought away and sits up, “Wanna listen to the new CD I got?”

He’s not sure but he thinks he sees a glint of disappointment in Luc’s eyes as he moves away. “Sure Sam, sure.”

Sam falters halfway across the room, “What’s wrong?”

Luc fidgets with a hole in his jeans. “It’s just you let people treat you like crap and never stand up for yourself.”

Sam frowns as he puts on the CD, “Like who?”

“Oh, you know, kids at school, kids at your old school, your family.”

“My family are going through stuff at the moment, Luc. I don’t want to make things worse.”

Luc smiles, “Oh Sam, you deserve so much better than them.”  
___________

John’s on his way home when he gets the call from Kate. He hasn’t seen her in over eight months and he almost doesn’t answer.

“Kate,” he snaps when he eventually does pick up. “I told you not to contact me!”

There’s a sudden hitch in the steady breathing on the other side of the line. “I know,” she says shakily, “I know and I tried to resist but...Oh John, I’m so _scared_.”

John frowns. “Why?”

Kate takes a deep breath, “John, I’m pregnant. It’s yours.”

And _fuck_ he really doesn’t need this right now because things are just starting to get back to normal again. “Shit, Kate.” He murmers.

“I’m in labour,” she sobs. “I’m in labour and it’s too early and _I don’t know what to do._ ”

John thinks about Sam and Dean. He thinks about Mary.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he says hanging up and heading towards LAX.

___________

Dean gets home late and finds his mom crying in the kitchen, phone half slipping out of her hand. They’ve been here three months and things have been going well.

His heart sinks.

“Mom,” he whispers, pulling her in to his arms. “Mom, what happened?”

“Your Dad’s gone back to Kansas, he said it was an emergency but I don’t believe him. He’s gone back to that Kate woman, I know he has!”

Dean rubs her back in soothing circles. This is nothing new; he’s been doing this all his life. “Maybe it was grandma? Or one of his friends? It might not be Kate, Mom.”

“Of course it is,” she sobs and she’s right, it probably is but Dean won’t say that. 

“It’ll be alright,” he says mechanically. “It’ll all be okay, Mom.”

It takes another few minutes for his mom to regain her composure but she eventually does, straightening and sniffing. She cradles his face with her hands and kisses him on the cheek, “What would I do without you, Dean?”

“Spend a helluva lot less on groceries,” he says with a crooked smile.

She huffs out a laugh, “Go and fetch your brother. Dinners almost ready.”

He finds Sam sprawled out on his floor busily scribbling away in his math book and blaring some awful music. Luc is sitting on Sam’s bed, flicking through a magazine, he glances up at Dean and smirks, Dean grits his teeth. “Dad’s gone again,” Sam says when Dean enters the room. “He’s such an asshole.”

“Sam, don’t be like that,” Dean murmers. 

“Why not?” his little brother snaps, “It’s _true_ isn’t it?” 

“We don’t know that. It might really be an emergency.”

“What? Like his blood alcohol level has dropped? Or is it a sex emergency? Mom’s not satisfying him again so he has to run off to be with that whore!?”

Dean slams his hand on Sam’s desk, “ _Enough!_ ” 

Sam stares at him.

“Jesus, Sammy. When did you start talking like that?” Because seriously, when did his little brother turn in to this angry little kid?

Sam sneers, “When I grew up, Dean, like you never did. You still live in this stupid childhood fantasy where Mom and Dad are these perfect people that will live together happily forever! Well guess what Dean, they _won’t_. Dad is an alcoholic bastard and Mom’s just too nice to dump him!”

“Sammy, this isn’t you.” Dean says, slightly alarmed. Sam’s never insulted their Mom before and Dean would be angry right now if he wasn’t so worried.

Sam stands up and Luc follows him, “This _is_ me, Dean. You’re just so caught up in this fantasy you have of me as the perfect little brother that you’ve never seen it before.” 

“And it’s _Sam._ ” his brother adds as they brush past him and descend the stairs.

___________

After a tense dinner they head back up to Sam’s room and as soon as the doors shut Luc’s grinning at him, blue eyes wild with electricity. “That was _brilliant_!” he says animatedly.

Sam smiles, “You think?”

“Yeah! It was awesome, you’re brother looked like you’d just slapped him!” Luc rambles on for a while longer and Sam’s not sure how but at some point he ends up leaning in and kissing the older boy.

He’s thought about doing this for a long time (well, a few weeks but that’s a pretty long time) and he’s not expecting the _harshness_ the teeth clacking together and dragging over tongues and lips, the way Luc grips him by the shoulder hard enough to bruise and growls possessively when Sam rolls his hips into the other boy’s. 

But it feels _right_.

When they finally pull apart Luc grins lackadaisically and Sam smiles nervously. He only notices the shredded remains of his algebra homework (and most of his other school books.) His smile vanishes. “ _Fucking dog!_ ” he snarls, bending to pick up the remnants of his books. 

Luc kneels down to help him. “I’ve always been more of a cat person.” He says with a smile.

___________

John’s been gone almost two days.

Dean would be fucking furious and on his way to Kansas to drag his sorry ass back home if he weren’t so worried about Sam. Sam who fucking blew up at him yesterday. Sam who spends _all_ his time with that fucking _Luc_. And Riot. Poor dog.

He hasn’t seen Riot all day and he’s looked _everywhere_. 

It doesn’t help that he hasn’t slept properly since they moved here, every night he has another weird-ass nightmare. Sometimes there’ll be the guy from the first night, sometimes it’ll be a girl with red hair, a boy with golden eyes and a smirk, another boy with tired blue eyes and blonde hair. Sometimes there’s a little blonde girl in a blood-stained red dress, sometimes there’s Luc cackling beside a blood-stained Sammy. Sometimes his mom is burning on the ceiling. Sometimes his dad is staring up at him with empty, dead eyes. 

The worst ones though are of a man. A man who straps him to a table in the basement and cuts at him with a razor blade and makes him _scream._

There are other things too; doors that open and shut on their own, shadows and whispers and rattling chains.

He fucking hates this house.

“Riot!” he calls, “Come on boy! You’ve gotta come out sometime!”

He’d asked Sammy about it earlier that morning; Sam had snarked, muttered about being late for school and brandished a taped together book, “He really fucking did eat my homework. I’ll have detention for a week.” 

Dean had frowned, Riot was Sammy’s dog. He’d brought him home one day, a scrappy little stray puppy and _begged_ Dad to let them keep him. But then Sammy wasn’t Sammy anymore. Not since fucking Luc came along.

“Lost your dog?” 

Dean spins to find Garth watching him apprehensively. He hasn’t seen the kid since he freaked out over Luc. “Don’t you have school?” Dean asks gruffly.

Garth grins, “Nope. I’m homeschooled.” 

“Of course you are.”

Garth looks like he’s trying to decide whether to be offended by that remark and Dean’s worried the kid will have an aneurism with how hard he’s concentrating so he changes the subject. “You haven’t seen Riot have you?”

The kid shakes his head, “Nope, sorry bro. I could help you look though.”

Dean shakes his head, “I’ve already looked everywhere. He can’t have got out...He must be somewhere in house, asleep or something. Stupid mutt.”

“My momma says they’ll come out when they’re hungry,” Garth says wisely. “So he’ll come out soon, right?”

“Right,” Dean agrees. Then he sighs, “So anyway, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that time you freaked out when Sammy’s new BFF interrupted our little mechanic session.”

Garth pales a little and fidgets, “Oh, I-uh...He just looks like someone who used to live there.”

Dean frowns, “Who? Max?” he asks, wracking his brains to try and remember what the kid looked like. He’d looked up the case a few days after they moved in.

“N-no, someone who lived there before. I gotta go, Dean,” Garth says, backing away a little. “I promised I’d call my cousin later.” He turns and clambers over the fence, pausing to lean back over and call, “Dean! Check the basement.”

“Check the-what? Garth!” Dean calls but the kid’s already scrambled up his garden path and disappeared in to his house. 

_The basement._ It’s been locked since the day they moved in- Sam had fallen down the stairs and their Dad had decided the room was a safety hazard and locked it up. But still, Riot might have found a way in (or someone might have let him in) Dean shudders at that thought.

His mom is cleaning up in the attic and the garage he works at is closed for the day so he heads back in to the house and grabs a torch and the key from the kitchen before unlocking the basement door. “Riot!” he calls, flicking the basement light-switch experimentally.

Unsurprisingly it doesn’t work. 

He sighs, pulls out the torch and lights his way down the dingy steps. He pauses when he reaches the bottom, sweeping the torch around the room. The beam picks out several shelves with jars and other bric-a-brac lining them. _What the fuck_.

He freezes when he hears something move behind him. 

“Riot! Godammit Riot, get out here now!” he calls (hoping his voice doesn’t shake as much as he thinks it does)

Another scuffling sound.

“R-Riot?”

Someone steps out of the shadows to the left of him.

“Boo,” Luc says.

Dean totally does not _squeal_. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?”

Luc smirks. “Cleaning up for your mother, remember? Lost your dog, Dean?” he says coldly and Dean’s stomach plummets.

“You sick _fuck_ ,” Dean whispers. “If you’ve done anything to Riot-”

“You’ll _what_? I’m the only thing keeping your little brother sane and you know that. Take that away and you’ll have an absent father, a depressed mother and a suicidal brother.”

Dean snorts, “Sam’s not suicidal.”

“Oh, really? Because you know his _so_ well. That must be why he insists on wearing long sleeves when it’s still boiling out.”

Dean’s blood runs cold. “If you’ve done anything to hurt Sam I will end you.”

“ _Me?_ You think _I’m_ hurting Sam?” Luc laughs callously. “That’s rich, Dean. I’m not the one who’s got that poor kid under so much pressure it’s a miracle he hasn’t blown his brains out already. That’d be you and your darling daddy.”

Dean’s grip on the torch tightens. “Watch yourself, Luc.” He growls. 

“No, Dean. Maybe you should watch _yourself_ ,” Luc sneers.

Dean’s about to make a biting remark about the low quality of Luc’s smack talk when something hard makes contact with the back of his head and he’s crumpling on to the floor.

When he comes to he’s alone but his whole body aches.

“What the...” he mumbles thickly, sitting up with difficulty. He scrambles up the stairs but he already knows the door will be locked. “LUC!” he yells, battering the surprisingly strong wooden door. “I AM GOING TO FUCKING MURDER YOU!” 

He spends a few more minutes rattling the door and hollering before his mom unlocks it, wide eyed. “Dean, baby, are you hurt?”

“What? No Mom, I’m fine.”

She looks unconvinced but right now Dean doesn’t really care, “Where’s Luc, Mom? Where’s Luc?”

Mary blinks, bewildered. “He said he went home...why?”

 _Shit._ “Do you know where he lives?”

His mom frowns, “Dean, I don’t-”

“This is important Mom!” he snaps before immediately regretting it. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Dean,” she says, running a hand through her hair. “We’re all under a lot of stress right now.” She spattered in paint- she’s been cleaning up the upstairs bedrooms that are still unoccupied.

He should go after Luc but he crumbles, “Need some help painting, Mom?”

She smiles brilliantly, “Yeah, thanks baby.”

___________

Luc’s waiting in his room when he gets back.

“Hey you,” he grins, striding across the room to kiss him on the cheek. 

Sam drops his books to the floor, “School fucking sucks, dude.” Then he bends to pick his books back up, “Can’t let the fucking dog get them again.” he murmers. 

Luc grins “Don’t think he’ll be much of a problem anymore. Haven’t you heard? He’s missing.”

Sam frowns, “Dean hasn’t found him yet? That’s weird. Probably got sick of all the fighting round here.” Luc chuckles. Sam likes making Luc laugh. He reaches out and grabs Luc’s arm, leading him over to the bed. “I need to de-stress.” He says with a smirk that Luc matches easily.

They’re interrupted by Dean barrelling in to the room, they spring apart guiltily and Luc tuts.

“Sammy, do you-” he breaks off when he spots Luc. “Son of a bitch,” he murmers. “You fucking _psycho_.” He advances on Luc, eyes dark, fists raised.

“What the _fuck_ , Dean?” Sam snaps, placing himself between his boyfriend and his brother. 

“Get out of the way, Sam!” Dean barks. He sounds so much like dad that Sam’s insides writhe with loathing.

“No.” He says firmly.

“Sammy! That psycho locked me in the basement! He hurt Riot!”

Luc gapes, “You think _I_ hurt your dog? Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know, because you’re a psycho?”

“Enough, Dean,” Sam snaps. “This is insane.” God his brother is really pissing him off lately. Scratch that. His _family_ is driving him fucking mental.

“No, Sammy, there’s something _wrong_ about him! How can you not _feel_ it?” Dean says, half-desperately. “Please, Sammy. You need to see that I’m right. He’s bad for you.”

Sam’s eyes narrow. “ _He’s_ bad for me? He’s the only good thing I have, Dean! You’re fucking irritating and Mom’s so wrapped up in her stupid renovation project that I’m pretty sure she’s forgotten I exist! And Dad? He’s still off in Kansas for the _emergency_. It’s this family that’s bad for me, Dean.”

“Sammy...”

“I want you to leave, Dean.” Sam says firmly.

And Dean does.

___________

Dean dreams about Riot crying. Riot howling. Riot screaming. 

He wakes up the first two nights swearing he can feel the warmth of the dog curled up at the end of his bed. When he turns the lights on Riot vanishes. 

On the third day he finds Riot’s bloodied collar on his bed.

He shakes and growls and he swears he hears Luc’s laughter echoing through the house (even though he knows he’s alone).


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been such a long wait!
> 
> there'll probably be one more chapter, maybe two.
> 
> enjoy!

The woman who answers the door is tall and homely and she looks like she hasn't slept since the 1980's. Dean gives her his best Winchester smile, "Hi there Mrs Baker, is there any chance that Lily is home?"

The woman gives him a once over, "You from her school?"

Dean nods, spins some tale about how the school's sent him over to talk to here one last time about coming back and the woman gives him this damn weepy-eyed smile and Dean feels a little guilty. He's not really here for that (obviously) he's really here to ask Lily about Max. Since Garth's gone off to his cousin's Dean's resorting to desperate methods to find out about Luc, hell he doesn't even know the kid's last name. Lily Baker was Max's best friend, since Max knew Luc Dean's hoping Lily did too. 

He's led through the bungalow to a door painted a deep red colour which opens to reveal a dark room covered in posters of the kind whiney emo bands Sam pretends he doesn't listen to. Dean almost rolls his eyes when he's faced with a tall blonde girl dressed in all black with more dark make up around her eyes than skin. "Who the fuck are you?" She spits.

"Lily," her mother begins, in that tentative parent tone mom uses for Sammy nowadays. "This is Dean, he's come to talk to you from the school."

Lily rakes her gaze across him and inclines her head. Her mother backs out with a relieved sigh. "You aren't from the school." She says as soon as the door clicks shut. 

Dean weighs his options. "No," he says eventually. "No, I'm not."

She sits forward attentively, "Who are you then?"

"I wanted to talk to you about Max."

She stiffens, "You a reporter?"

Dean sighs, "No. I'm uh- I'm living in his old house."

Lily's eyes widen a fraction, she sits back. "Really?" She breaths and _damn_ this is right out of one of those crappy horror movies he watched with Sammy on Halloween evenings. "Shit. That house is weird. I mean, it _did_ things to Max, made him worse."

"Worse?"

She looks up, eyes narrowed. "He wasn't a monster. I know they said he was in the newspaper sand stuff but he wasn't, okay? He had a shit life. His dad and uncle deserved it. They were fucking _animals_. I mean... He was wrong to kill them, I know that and he was never like that before they moved up to that house."

"There's this kid that turned up, a little after we moved in." He's about to go on a hate-rant about Luc but Lily tenses up and goes all bug-eyed and for this one heart-stopping moment Dean thinks she's having a seizure or something.

Then she whispers, " _Luc?_ " in this terrified voice that makes him almost wish it was a seizure.

"Yeah, him," Dean says, injecting as much venom as he possibly can into the statement.

Lily's eyes go dark and she leans in close, "He's the one who made Max kill his family."

\--------

Dean leaves knowing that Luc did to Max what he's currently doing to Sam.

\--------

Sam really fucking hates this school. Did he mention that?

He's bunking class (which he'd normally _never_ do because he's not gonna end up as a fucking mechanic like Dean but there's this kid that won't let up with the teasing and Sam just _can't_ with that today) and lurking by the dumpsters behind the cafeteria. It's not exactly glamorous but its deserted and it means he can get an hour of peace before trig. 

He's leant up against the wall texting Andy and wishing Luc had a mobile. Then again he hasn't exactly had many thoughts that _don't_ include Luc lately even if he hasn't really told anyone about their... _relationship_. There's this shuffling noise from somewhere in front of him and he jumps, looking up to find a girl with dark hair and dark eyes. The kind of girl Sam thinks he'd think about a lot if he didn't have Luc.

"Uh, hi?" He says after a few moments of her staring. 

"You new here?" She asks eventually.

Sam's been here just over a month but yeah, he guesses he's still new. He stands up, studies the girl's face, she looks to be about his age but he's never seen her around before, not in classes, not at lunch. She's wearing dark jeans and a leather jacket over a tight fitting dark red top. "Yeah," he says evenly. "I moved here a little while ago."

She nods, eyes the phone in his hand and the bruise on his cheek. "What's your name?"

"Sam Winchester," he replies, he can't quite shake the feeling he's being studied under her cool gaze. 

She smiles, dark and dangerous. "Hi Sam, I'm Ruby."

\--------

Sam likes Ruby. They like the same music, hate the same things and really, isn't that what all friendships are born of?

\--------

"What the _fuck_ , dad?"

Dean has pretty much been cleaning up his dad's messes since he was four; getting him to call her back, to apologise, directing him to buy flowers/chocolates/whatever other cliche romance gift he could think of. He fixed the affair. Well, he glued them back together shakily but he knows that a small tap in the right place and they'll be in pieces on the floor again. But this? This is a fucking drop kick.

It's just past midnight, Riot is dead, Sam's in the pants of the guy who _killed_ Riot (and is refusing to come within a mile of Dean) and Dad's just pulled up in the fucking Impala like he's never been away.

His dad grits his teeth, "You'll watch your mouth, _boy_." He growls in the tone that would usually have dean ducking away and mumbling 'sorry's' and 'yessirs' but not today. Today he stares back, jaw clenched.

John breaks, "What was I supposed to do, Dean? Leave him there with his mama dead?" The blond baby in his arms squalls.

"What you were _supposed_ to do was keep your dick in your pants like a grown ass man!" Dean bites back, "And fucking think about your family!"

" _He's_ our family too, Dean. Your little brother," John snarls. "And don't you fucking speak to me like that, boy. Not until you know what you're talking about! You don't know anything, kid. Life is _fucking_ hard, Dean and you don't know jackshit."

"Like hell I don't! I been cleaning up your crap since I was a kid, dad. _A kid._ I been looking after mom and Sammy while you were off getting shitfaced and screwing women. _I_ was the one who taught Sam to throw, _I_ was the one who helped him with his homework while mom was working two jobs to pay off your bar tabs, _I_ was the one who took him to school. And I never once complained when you weren't there to do the same for _me_. We're falling apart here Dad. Now you got this new kid to ignore? Have you even told mom? You thought you could just waltz in here with a baby on your arm and what? Everything would just work out?"

His dad raises a fist and Dean barely flinches. The baby is still screaming and if Dean's mind weren't so flushed with rage and Sammy and Riot and fucking Luc he'd at least have the sense to grab the kid and take him inside where its at least warm and quiet (yelling isn't good for babies, right?) As it is the baby itself is low on Dean's list of priorities, the baby as a _concept_? That's a different story. 

He stares his dad down and John lowers his fist, shaking with rage. "One of these days Dean I'm gonna teach you a fucking lesson." He growls, jostles the baby slightly to rest easier against his chest.

Dean swallows, pushing the anger and nails it down for now. "What's his name?" He asks quietly.

John passes him the baby, "Adam," he says, popping the Impala's boot. There's a crib in there, all folded up, some clothes, blankets, toys. Dean tries and fails to picture his dad in Babies'R'Us and John catches his eye. "It's from Kate's apartment." He says gruffly.

Dean turns to walk up to the house and Adam coos. Kate's always been this faceless creature that stole his dad, now she's dead and Dean's not sure how he's supposed to feel, he looks down at Adam, all pink and wrinkled with a tuft of blond hair and wonders whether he'll look like her.

He hears his dad following him, stomping up the driveway like he's the one who's been wronged. 

His mom cries.

Like really _fucking_ cries. 

Adam cries too and eventually Dean takes him upstairs, sets up the travel crib in the corner of his room and listens to his parents screaming at each other downstairs. He's just got Adam to sleep when there's a tentative knock at the door and for a moment he's expecting Sam, wide-eyed and bare foot, trembling because mom and dad are fighting again, but instead his little brother stalks in, takes one look at Adam and sneers.

"Just when I thought this couldn't get any more pathetic."

"What the hell, Sam?" Dean snaps. "That's all you've got to say?"

"What can I say, _Dean_?" He spits his name like it's a cuss word. "Dad's had a kid with his whore now we can look forward to a long fucking custody battle."

"Don't you talk about the kid like that, it ain't his fault! He's your little brother, Sammy. And you watch your mouth."

Sam sniggers, "You sound so much Dad it's actually funny." And with that he stalks out, slamming the door loud enough to jolt the baby awake and Dean swears as he picks the crying kid up and rocks him the way he's seen on tv.

\--------

Sam meets Luc at the back of garden. 

"So he just came back with a baby? That's so fucked up," he giggles. 

Sam glares, "It's not funny Luc! They'll probably get divorced now, no way mom will be able to keep the house." He looks away, scuffs at the ground. "We'll probably have to move back to Kansas."

Luc's smile vanishes and its replaced by this chilling look, "You'll have to move?" He repeats, the words dripping slowly through his teeth. "Isn't there something you can do?"

Sam scrubs at his eyes. "No. Think about it Luc; they were ready to get divorced after the affair, and now there's a kid involved? I don't see mom forgiving him. I don't know. Maybe it's for the best... I mean at least she'll be happy."

Luc's eyes go cold. "But you'll have to leave me. Do you want to leave me?"

Sam's head snaps up, _what the fuck?_ "No," he says, frowning. "Luc I-"

Luc smiles suddenly, "Good." He purrs. "Now, lets think of a way we can get your parents to make up..."

\--------

Dean cuts down his hours at the garage to look after Adam. Home is a mess. Dad's sleeping in one of the many spare rooms since he can't afford a motel and he and mom _refuse_ to be in the same room as each other plus he's picked up an after hours class to teach at the academy. Mom won't even _look_ at Adam without tearing up so Dean's become the main baby sitter which is fucking irritating but hey, he's not about to leave the kid on his own and its not like they can afford a babysitter. Sam spends literally _all_ the time he's not at school shut up in his room with Luc and if Dean didn't have a new born to look after he'd have broken the door down.

Every once in a while it all goes to shit and mom and dad or dad and Sam or Sam and mon explode and the walls seem to suddenly become paper thin. Adam cries and Dean sits awake and sings _Hey Jude_ until he quiets.

All in all they're worse off than before they moved. 

Except now they're living in a fucking horror movie house. 

Dean still jerks awake at night from nightmares with a figure standing over him, wakes up to the sound of Riot barking somewhere deep in the house. More than once he's glanced into the nursery and sworn there's someone standing over Adam's cot (there never is though.)

Well, until he finds Luc in there, gazing down at Adam with the same cold interest a scientist would look down at a specimen pinned to board. 

"Get the fuck away from him."

Luc turns to him slowly grinning, "Hello Dean."

Dean advances on him, "I said: stay the _fuck_ away from him."

Luc rolls his eyes, "Yes, Dean, shockingly I do have the ability to perceive sound." 

"So are you still next to him?" He growls. 

"Because I also possess the ability to disobey you. It's called free will, Dean." 

Dean's fists clench, "You know Sam and mom might be bought by your act, Luc but I know there's something wrong about you. I talked to Lily, old Max's best friend, you remember him dontcha? The kid you talked in to killing his parents?"

Luc giggles. "Oh, _Dean_ I didn't talk him in to anything. I just have him a push in the right direction."

Dean growls, "Stay away from Sammy."

Luc pushes past him, "Yeah right, Dean. You gonna make me? You gonna beat me up?" He breaks off with a snort. "You think Sam will ever talk to you again if you do?" And he vanishes down the hall.

\--------

Sam's started skipping classes more often to hang out with Ruby. It won't effect his grades and he does it irregularly enough that the teachers won't notice a pattern. He eats lunch with her and for once the weird looks the other kids give him don't bother him. It's almost made school bearable. 

It's odd though, the teachers have started giving him odd looks too.

\--------

Mary gets the call on a Thursday afternoon while she's painting the upstairs hall. Dean's gone out for a bit and she can hear Adam gurgling happily in his room while John reads to him on a rare afternoon off, She's got Luc outside gardening. She could almost pretend it was normal if it weren't for the baby noises.

Her head is pounding and she's been feeling sick all morning so the last thing she needs is someone trying to sell her something.

Her heart stops when she sees its Sam's school calling, a series of horrible images flashing through her mind. She answers quickly but it takes a few moments for her thoughts to gather into coherent words, "Hello?" She croaks.

"Mrs Winchester? This is Ellen Harvelle, I'm the guidance councillor at your son's school," a kindly voice says. "I was wondering whether I could talk to you for a minute about Sam?"

Mary sits down heavily, tries to still her heart. "Yeah, yes. That's fine."

There's a heavy sigh on the other side of the line, "I'm sorry to do this over the phone it's just that... Well I need to do this as soon as possible."

And damned if Mary knows what to say to that.

"Does Sam have any history of psychological disturbance?"

\--------

The house Dean pulls up in front of is way too small for the numerous brothers and sisters Luc mentioned to him. He'd gotten the address from the phone book after Garth finally mumbled that he thought Luc's last name was Milton and luckily there was only one Milton family in the area. (Dean figured he must live close since he seemed to appear and disappear at the snap of Sam's fingers.) It looks to be a two bedroom bungalow but hey, maybe Luc is older than he looks and lives alone and if that's true he's not gonna find anything more out here.

He gets out of the car anyway and marches up the neat gravel path to rap on the door firmly. It's opened by a guy maybe Dean's age, maybe a few years older dressed in a rumpled suit. His dark hair is mussed and his eyes are the bluest blue Dean's ever seen (not that he's gazing into them or anything.) The man stares at him intently, "Yes?"

"Uh, hi," Dean stammers a little ( _stammers_ Jesus, is he 12 year old girl all of a sudden?) "Is there a Luc Milton living here?"

The man stiffens and emotions flicker through his eyes so fast it makes Dean's head hurt trying to follow them. They settle on anger. "Is this some kind of joke?"   
Dean blinks. "No? I just wanted to know if uh-"

The guy grits his teeth, "I have had it with you people." He growls and suddenly he turns and storms off in to the house. Dean hovers awkwardly at the door but before he can process what the hell is actually happening the guy stalks back and shoves a photograph in Dean's face. "Is this who you're looking for?" The guy yells.

The photo is old - like legit old, not instagrammed or whatever - the clothes and awful hair on the two older people say early '90's. Its a family, a fucking big family, seven kids and a mom and dad that look like they could be straight out of a catalogue. Six boys and one girl. Dean scans the photo until he focuses on the grinning blond boy who's standing just an inch too far from the rest of his family. 

Luc.

But it can't be because Luc there is exactly the same as the Luc who's currently pruning his mom's roses. 

Dean feels sick.

Dean feels dizzy.

The man shakes the photo, "Is it?" He demands.

Dean wants to say something but at the moment his brain is a constant loop of _what the fuck_ and _it can't be_ and _shit Sammy_.

The photo is suddenly pulled back from his vision and replaced by the guy's face, eyes wide and concerned. He thinks the guy might be asking if he's okay so he takes a breath, closes his eyes and nods. The guy steps back and puts a hesitant hand on Dean's shoulder. "Why are you asking about Luc Milton?" The guy asks quietly.

Dean's eyes snap open, "Who is Luc Milton?"

The guy sighs, "Lucius. My brother." He taps the baby in the woman's arms. "That's me."

Dean's stomach roils, "Where is Luc now?"

And the guy frowns like Dean's insane and says, "I think you better come inside."

He leads Dean in to a tiny living room, pushes him down to sit on a saggy old couch and ducks out returning a few minutes later with a glass of water. He presses it in to Dean's hands. "Who are you?" His voice far gentler than before.

Dean takes a shaky sip of the water, "Dean," he rasps. "Dean Winchester."

_stay calm, stay calm. It could be photoshopped._

"Okay, Dean, I'm Cas. Now you need to tell me why you're asking about my brother."

It takes Dean a while to string the words together but he manages it eventually, "Luc he - he's... I've seen him. At my house. He hangs out with my little brother."

_maybe it was Instagram_

Cas' eyebrows rise almost comically, "Right..." He nods slowly. "Well that can't be true, okay, Dean?" He says as though he's talking to a real slow kid. 

"Why not?" He demands.

Cas looks taken aback, "Luc's been dead for twenty years." He says.

Dean drops the glass. It shatters on the hard wood floor. "No," he tells Cas. "You're wrong."

Cas eyes him, stands up, backs away, "You're not just another true crime nut, are you?"

" _What?_ "  
Cas swallows, "You're insane." He says firmly. "My brother is _dead_."

"He's not," Dean insists (he can't be, he can't be, ghosts don't exist.) "I know him. He likes dorky books like my brother and he listens to depressing British bands and he hates dogs!"

"My brother is dead!" Cas snaps, he turns and storms out of the room and returns, tossing Dean a yellowing newspaper. Dean yanks it up and scans the front page, "What the fuck?"

**L.A teen massacres family and friends.**

A photo of Luc grins out from under the headline. 

"What the fuck?" Dean repeats, looking up at Cas.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thinking there'll probably be one more chapter? 
> 
> thanks for all the feedback :D

There's a plaque in the library, behind the librarians desk, Sam's never got up close enough to read it. It's final period and he has it free, he could sneak out and head home but Ruby's got a free period too and home is hardly the healthiest of environments right now. 

"What is that anyway?" He asks, indicating the plaque.

Ruby glances up from the creep biro drawings she's covering her notebook in, "Hm? Oh, that's a memorial thing for a school shooting a few years back."

Sam sits forward, "There was a shooting here?"

Ruby's scribbling again, "Yeah. Some kid in his last year, shot most of his family and then came in and shot a bunch of kids. Shot his girlfriend too."

Sam tries to picture doing that; shooting his family and Luc. He's not going to lie, he's thought about smothering Adam when he's caterwauling at night and he's _definitely_ thought about killing Dean more times than he can count but he can't say he'd actually _do_ it. He shakes his head, "Freak."

Ruby looks up sharply at that, "He wasn't a freak, Sam." 

Sam raises an eyebrow, "Ruby, he _killed_ people."

"He killed _assholes_. He was like us, Sam. His family were a bunch of unappreciative assholes and you know what the kids at this school are like. Wouldn't you want to wipe their smug smiles off their faces? Those murders weren't just random acts of violence! They were a cry for help for every kid like us in the world! A statement saying: look what I've been forced to do! And you know what? Nothing's changed. We're still treated like crap and the jocks and preps and whoever they are still get to smile and laugh and nobody cares. It makes me so _angry._ "

"He killed people though," Sam insists. "He could have, I don't know, made leaflets."

" _Leaflets_ , Ruby repeats with a sneer. "Sam, no one ever made any changes with leaflets. Violence is what our society is built on and violence is what keeps our society moving forwards. We just have to pretend it isn't."

 _Huh_ , Sam thinks.

*****

When Dean's brain starts forming coherent sentences again the first thing he thinks is, _I **knew** there was something wrong with that house._ This is quickly followed by _holy fucking shit_ because what the fuck are you meant to do with the knowledge that your little brother's best friend is actually a psychotic ghost?

Cas tells him about Luc, about how he shot his brothers and sister and father, shot his mother too but she lived, tried to shoot Cas but missed and didn't bother checking in the crib afterwards. How he went out to school like nothing had happened and shot up a bunch of kids in the library before heading home and killing himself. 

"My mother used to say he wasn't a bad person," Cas says with that sort of detached numbness that speaks measures about what the other person is feeling. "I think even though he killed Michael and Balthazar and Gabriel and Raphael and Anna and my father she still wanted to love him. Still _did_ love him."

"Must have been rough," Dean says gruffly and he's not entirely sure whether he supposed to be comforting Cas or searching the web for exorcisms. He's kind of just focusing on breathing currently.

Cas glances up at him, "It was... _challenging_. My mother did her best."

Dean nods, he figures if he's honest he'd say that about his dad. It wasn't John's fault that he never had a dad to look up to, Dean's been told countless times about how his grandad left when John was just a kid. At least John stuck around. But he's got a hundred things to do right now and comforting this stranger is _not_ high on his list of priorities.

"Look, Cas, I gotta go - I gotta..." He stammers because aside from get mom and Adam the hell out of there Dean's not sure what he _can_ do let alone what he should do. Usually at this point in the horror movie Dean's got his hands down some girl's pants or he's dozed off - all he does know is that its at this point that most people urge the character to go to the police. It's only now he realises how stupid that is. What's he supposed to say? My brother's being manipulated by an evil ghost that killed my dog probably _isn't_ the best thing to say. It'd get him attention, sure. Just not the kind he wants.

He stands slightly unsteadily, "I need to get my family outta there."

Cas stands too, "I want to come with you. If this really is my brother's...my brother's _ghost_ I want to..." He trails off and stares at Dean meaningfully, like he's asking permission.

Dean can't exactly tell the guy no and maybe an outsider will be good thing, even if it is just to reassure him that he's not suffering from some sort of genetic insanity. "Yeah," he says roughly. "Yeah okay."

Cas nods, smiles a little and starts towards the front door.

*****

"I know this must be difficult," Ellen is saying in that kind voice that art of comes off more as patronising. "But I need to ask you about Sam and I need you to promise to tell me the truth, Mrs Winchester."

"I - yes, of course."

"I need you to tell me if your son has any history of hallucinations."

Mary's hands are shaking so bad the handset almost slips from her grasp, "Hallucinations?" She repeats. "Wh-what?"

Ellen's voice is sympathetic, kind, restrained. "He's been... He's been talking to himself, sitting alone at lunchtimes and such. At first we didn't think much of it, I mean of course it's always rough settling in to a new school, but he seems to be having conversations with someone called 'Ruby'."

"Yes, Ruby's his friend - he's told me about her." She stammers.

"No," Ellen says delicately. "Mrs Winchester, there's no student called Ruby at this school currently. At first we thought that maybe he was doing it just to freak out the other students. See there was a victim of a school shooting a few years ago, her name was Ruby. Some of the teachers think Sam was playing some sort of morbid prank on the other children." 

Mary cuts her off, "No, Sam wouldn't do that." Not her Sam, her sweet Sam. 

"I know, that's become apparent," Ellen sighs. "Mrs Winchester, this is serious. If this really _is_ an hallucination well then... Look, I was wondering if maybe you could come down to the school this afternoon and we could talk about this? It might be better to have this conversation face to face."

Mary nods, "Y-Yes. We can do that. Should I - Should I wait and bring Sam or will you...?"

"We'll take of that," Ellen says calmly. 

Then there's the hum of the dial tone and Mary's sliding down the wall and sobbing.

*****

"You have to leave," Ruby says suddenly.

Sam looks up from his maths work, "What?"

Ruby points across to the front desk, "See that lady? That's Ellen Harvelle, the school psychiatrist, she keeps looking at you."

Sam swears loudly, "A _psychiatrist_? For godsake. I bet this is _Dean._ "

"You can go out the back," Ruby hisses. "There's a fire escape with a broken alarm."

Sam doesn't think it through, he stands up and heads towards the back of the library.

*****

John's just got Adam to sleep when Sam's creepy friend appears behind him. There's something just not right about the look in that kid's cold blue eyes.

"Aren't you meant to be gardening or something?" He barks and the kid grins lazily. John barely represses a shudder, he doesn't get the appeal this kid has. Sure he's polite and all and he's helping Mary out for next to nothing but there's something in kid's eyes that just doesn't sit right with John. He moves so he's standing between the cot and Luc because there's no way in hell that freak is coming near his son while he's around.

"Sorry, Mr Winchester," Luc says. "I heard Adam crying, thought I'd come see if you needed any help." 

"He's fine," John says gruffly, looking pointedly at the door.

Luc doesn't budge. "Well that's good. But there is something else I wanted to talk to you about."

*****

When Dean pulls up to the house Cas goes still in the passenger seat and Dean looks at him questioningly.

"My whole family died in there," he says quietly. "I've never seen it before." Dean has no idea what he's supposed to say to that so he reaches over and pats him on the arm.

The house feels different when he steps in to it this time, different like it knows. 

There's this odd tension in the air, a stench of death and blood mingled in with the air condition his mom insists on having in every room and he swears he can hear this eerie singing drifting up from the basement.

Cas gazes around, agog, "I've read about this house." He says quietly. "I've studied every inch of it online, seen photos and everything. But it's so different..."

Dean glances back at him briefly before thundering up the stairs, "Mom? Dad?"

He finds his mom on the landing, she's clutching the phone in one of her hands and the other is balled in her hair, tugging at it. And she's crying. He can hear Adam squalling in his room, he drops to his knees, looks back at Cas. Normally he wouldn't let anyone near his brother but there's something about Cas that's different. "Can you?" He indicates the nursery door and Cas moves off without a word.

"Mom?" He lifts her face up so they can see eye to eye. "Mom, what happened?"

"It's Sam," she gasps. "There's something wrong with, Sam."

Dean helps her up, "What?"

"The school called," she says quietly. "The psychiatrist."

Dean goes sort of numb, "The _psychiatrist_?" But then Sam has become bffs with a ghost so maybe a shrink would be a good thing for him.

Mary nods slowly, running a hand through her tangled locks. "They want me to go in and talk to them with Sam after school."  
"You've gotta leave?" _Well at least that buys me time to figure out how to explain the whole ghost thing._

She nods, "Your dad is about somewhere. I'll be back soon."

Dean's left staring after her. Well, at least she's out of the house. He turns down towards the nursery where Cas is sort of awkwardly bouncing Adam in his arms. "Sorry," he says, frowning at the baby. "I've never actually done this before..." Dean takes pity on him and steps forward to take Adam who calms immediately.

"Was your mother okay?" Cas asks, fidgeting a little.

"My brother," Dean begins, "there was something wrong at school, she's gone to fetch him."

"So now what?" Cas asks lamely.

"First, we gotta find my dad and get him and Adam the hell out of here, then we need to figure out a way to keep them the hell away from here. And we gotta hope we don't run into your big brother."

Cas nods and follows him out into the hallway. "I always wondered," he says wistfully as they descend the stairs, "what it would be like to grow up in this house."

"Well, I've been here three months, give or take, and trust me, it hasn't been fun."

"How so?"

Dean rolls his eyes, "You mean _aside_ from the homicidal ghost befriending my baby brother?"

Cas huffs, "I didn't mean to..."

"It's fine," Dean says dismissively. "I don't know. A bunch of weird shit, voices, smells. You know, _Most Haunted_ crap." He thinks about his nightmares, about Riot. "Our dog went missing."

Cas hums, "My mom always said this house was haunted."

Dean glances back at him, cradling Adam close to his chest. Cas is gazing around at everything, searching the walls, the ceilings, the floors. "So, were your parents like loaded, or something? I mean this place is pretty huge. We only got it 'cos it was cheap after that Max kid shot his parents."

"My father was a writer, so yes. They were fairly wealthy."

"You said you'd studied the house," Dean says, thinking back to his nightmares. The bloody girl. The older man who ties him down. Cas's family, because that's who they were, the ones with bullet wounds, he knows that now. He doesn't think he should tell Cas he dreamt about them. That would be weird. "There were other murders here, right?"

"Oh yes, many."

They head in to the kitchen, Dean figures that's the most likely place for his dad to be, plus it means they'll have to go through the living room and office, "Like what?"

"Well a lot of them have been fairly uh, _domestic_ stuff, like Max and my brother. A lot of family things, spurned lovers and things." Cas begins.

Dean cuts him off, "Was there anything about a little girl? Blonde? White dress?"

"Ah," Cas says, "Lilith. She was eight years old when she moved in here. Ended up killing her parents and grandparents after a few months, no one ever could work out how. They found her dead too, down in the attic, covered in her mother's blood."

Dean shudders at the thought of that little girl, her eerie giggle, "And a man?" He asks, holding Adam closer to him. "A man in the basement?"

He glances back to find Cas frowning at him, "Alastair." He says finally. "They called him Picasso with a knife. He owned the house back in the '40's, pretended to be an artist; lured models here and cut them up in the basement. They think his body count was in the low fifties, he killed himself before the police caught up with him."

"And no one thought the high homicide rates here were cause for concern?" 

"Actually there are whole websites dedicated to it, a few even talk about it being a government experiment."

Dean snorts, ghosts he can just about buy, government cover ups? Not so much. "So they've snuck something in to the water? Seems legit."

Cas pauses in the office, examining the mostly empty bookshelves. "Well the dominant theory is that the house's original owner, a man called Crowley, used the house for demon summoning."

"Well, at least there are still some sane theories out there," Dean remarks as they pass through in to the kitchen. 

There is someone in the kitchen, unfortunately it's not John.

"Oh, hello little brother," Luc says, reclining in a chair. "My, how you've grown."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> super long update since it's been so long, the next chapter is halfway done so should be up soon! 
> 
> as always, thanks a bunch for all the comments, unbeta'd and enjoy!

Sam ducks out through the fire exit and takes the long route home, Dean’ll be home by now and after their big argument he doesn’t trust his brother to cover for him. 

He has no idea what he'll tell his mom. 

He's got a half hour to figure it out, or so he thinks. His phone starts buzzing after a few minutes; _mom_ the display reads. _Shit._ After a few minutes of dithering he lets it go to voicemail and switches it on to silent. 

The things Ruby said are circling his brain - the stuff about violence and society. The stuff about the shooting. He drops by the library on the way home, mostly because he really, _really_ doesn't want to see his mom so upset right now. Maybe he can make something up about bullies. That'd at least get him the sympathy vote. He browses the shelves for a few minutes but nothing jumps out at him. 

He feels awful for wanting to know more about the shooting - it's primal and voyeristic, this fascination with violence. But he's killing time and hey, it wouldn't hurt to brush up on the local lore, right? 

The woman at the desk looks distinctly unimpressed by his request, "Now, why would a kid like you want to read up on something as ugly as that?" 

"School report," Sam lies which makes her look even _more_ unimpressed. "About what could have been done to prevent it," he adds quickly.

She arches an eyebrow, "You must be new around here, kid. The kid who shot up his school? I was there. There was nothing to be done. He had a great family, got good grades, he had it all going for him. There was no reason for him to do what he did." 

"That doesn't make any sense," Sam protests. "Good, rational people don't just kill everyone they love for no reason." 

She shrugs, "Maybe he wasn't a good person. So unless you buy into all that 'murder house' crap I really don't know what you're going to write about." 

" _Murder house_?"

The woman chuckles, "Kid, you must be _really_ new. That big old Victorian mansion? The one where the kid killed his uncle and parents?" 

Sam frowns, "That's _my_ house." 

At this she draws back, studying his face. "Go sit down somewhere, I'll bring the newspapers right over," she says, tight lipped. Sam doesn't argue.

The box she brings over is neatly organised from oldest to newest. The oldest papers are laminated and yellowing. Sam starts at the beginning, 1924: _**Local Man Found Dead In Basement**_ , he reads, _Police have confirmed that 46 year old Fergus McCloud - known locally as 'Crowley' for his supposed connection to the occult - was found dead earlier today in the basement of his self-built mansion. McCloud was found with his knife wounds to his throat, apparently self inflicted._

Sam takes a breath. The story isn't very detailed after that, it's mostly made up of neighbours saying things like: _always was an odd one_ and _heard strange noises every now and again_. Sam doesn't believe in demons, so what of some weirdo decided to build himself a house and kill himself? That's not going to effect anything.

The next lot of stories are about the hunt for a serial killer who tortured models in the basement. _The killer, known by some as 'Picasso with a Knife', was identified when one of his victims, a young woman named Meg, escaped alive. Alastair Dämon, thirty years old, was found in the basement of the abandoned house he had used to lure his victims to in the guise of an artist. Dämon had cut his wrists and had bled out before the police reached him._

After that there are a few stories about teens disappearing in the house, then about it being refurbished and sold on. After that there are a few domestic cases - a mother who killed her daughter after becoming convinced she was possessed by a demon, a man who ate several people but let his wife and son go, suicides, domestic violence turning into homocide. 

He reaches the '80's and his stomach is churning. 

_**Eight Year Old Kills Parents, Grandparents in Murder House**. _

_L.A. Police were stunned today by the discovery of the five bodies in the now infamous 'murder house'. The bodies were confirmed to be that of the Eden family, Adam Eden who lived with his wife, Evelyn, his parents, Isaac and Clarissa and their eight year old daughter, Lilith. Adam and Evelyn were found slaughtered in the kitchen, while the body of Isaac, 67, was found in an advanced state of decomposition in the hallway with his neck broken. Clarissa, 64, was found in the basement with 16 stab wounds. Lilith was found in the attic with apparently self inflicted wounds._

_However, the discovery was made even more grisly by the finding that it was in fact, Lilith who killed her parents and grandmother. She was receiving psychological treatment at school before the murders occurred._

Sam has to rest his head on the desk. _An eight year old?_ Jesus. There's a note at the end of the article about the house being bought by a writer and his family and Sam feels sick. How the hell could dad buy this house after all that?

He's just about to reach for next bunch of papers when his phone lights up on the table, text from Dean. _dont come home ok? somethings happened you and mom get somewhere safe. will join you soon + explain_

Sam doesn't even think about it - he grabs his phone and rushes out of the library, dialling his mom's number as he goes.

-

To Cas' credit he doesn't complete lose his shit at seeing his long dead brother sitting casually at the kitchen table. Dean's pretty sure he would have freaked the fuck out. In his arms, Adam starts grizzling. 

"Luc," Cas says quietly. His voice is steady, no hint of anger or surprise, maybe a hint of curiosity. Dean squares his shoulders and cradles Adam closer. 

Luc grins lazily, "You don't look surprised _at all_ , how disappointing." 

"Save it," Dean barks. "Where's my dad you sick son of a bitch?" 

"Now, now, Dean," Luc says as he stands. "Mind your language around the baby and don't interrupt again, I'm trying to have a word with my baby brother."

Dean grits his teeth ( _Dad isn't dead,_ he tells himself, _Luc's bluffing - he's got to be._ ) Beside him Cas takes a breath as Luc appraises him, raking his eyes up and down him as a butcher would a piece of meat. "Hm. You certainly got the good genes. Mom's eyes, dear old dad's hair. I don't suppose mother dearest told you the truth about our father? No, no she wouldn't have. How is she, by the way?"

"She died three months ago," Cas grits out.

Luc curls his lip, "A shame, I never held a grudge against her, you know." 

"You shot her in the _back_." 

Luc giggles and its the creepiest thing Dean's ever heard, "Oops. I was aiming for Dad. Missed you too, little brother. I knew I should have gone back and checked but Anna, you would have liked her Cas, she was a survivor. She ran all the way up to the attic, had to waste three bullets on her." 

Dean can't keep quiet after _that_. "She was a _kid_ you sick, twisted piece of shit." 

Luc turns to him and for a second, the briefest fraction of a second, he sees Luc blood-spattered and deranged, rifle in his hands. "What would up you know about it, _Dean_?" He sneers. "I know your type, you were the kid who laughed at everyone smarter than you and pushed the weaker kids out of the way - you were the one who made everyone else feel like shit, like they weren't worth _anything_." 

"Oh, boo _hoo_! You got pushed around a bit so you shot your _family_?" 

"Oh, Dean," Luc shakes his head sympathetically, "You still think that's what this is all about?" 

Dean swallows and Adam starts whining - all he can think about are the faces from his nightmares. 

Cas steps forward, "What do you want Lucius?"

Luc spreads his hands, "Who says it's about what _I_ want?"

" _What are you talking about?_ "

Luc chuckles. "You'll see. Now, I've got to run along. I'll be seeing you soon, though." And with that he vanishes. 

Cas stares at the space where he once was, "Now what?" He asks, voice shaking just a bit. 

"Now we get Adam out of here. Then we find my dad," Dean says firmly, pulling out his mobile.

Cas frowns, "What are you doing?" 

"Texting Sammy, I am _not_ risking him too." 

When hes done they make their way into the hallway. He's seen enough haunted house movies to know that this won't be easy though. His suspicion is confirmed when the front door won't budge. He swears quietly and Cas puts a hand on his shoulder, "The windows?" He suggests.

Dean nods. They move through the house quietly, there are sounds now, echoing through the house. Footsteps, doors slamming, distant whispers, laughter, gun shots, the sound of a saw. Dean's freaking out, in a _big_ way - every nerve and every impulse in his body is screaming at him to run, to just jump out of a freaking window and scream and scream and scream until he's _away_ from this place - but he doesn't. The only thing keeping him there is Adam and Cas' hand on his shoulder. 

They move through the house systematically, the only window they can open is in the living room, too small for either of them to fit through. He takes a shaky breath and Cas' grip tightens a fraction, "Police?" 

"And we'll say what? _Hi, there officer, we're currently be held against our will by my friend's dead brother?_ That'll go over well." He pulls out his phone anyway, jostling Adam a little. It's dead. Not that Dean is surprised. He bites down his fear and shows the dead phone to Cas who says, "Oh." 

Great.

"Now what?" Dean asks, not that he's expecting an answer. The house is quiet now, Dean's not sure if that puts him more or less on edge. 

Cas takes a breath, "They've got us here for a reason," he says quietly. "Luc told us as much."

"Yeah, hell of a family you've got there, Cas," Dean mutters, he regrets it almost immediately but he's going to go ahead and blame the whole ghost-hostage thing. Adam has quieted and Dean sighs, sitting down on the couch. "We need to find my dad." 

"It doesn't make any sense," Cas is muttering. "I've studied this house, there's no record of _anything_ like this happening before..." 

Dean shoots him a look, "Could that possibly be because everyone who ever lived here _died_?" 

Cas nods, "That is indeed possible although not _everyone_ who lived here died. There were several families who were mostly unaffected and then there were..." Cas trails off, frowning at him. "What?"

"It was a rhetorical question, Cas." 

"Ah, I didn't..." at least he looks suitably embarrassed."Well, in any case there is a chance we can make it out of here alive." He says cheerily and wow, Dean had to get trapped in a haunted house with a baby and the most socially oblivious guy he's ever met. What a great day. 

There's silence then and Cas glances around the place, "Maybe you should find a more suitable way to carry your brother." 

Dean sort of wants to tell him to shut up but it's a good idea so he stands up and grabs the baby sling in the corner of the room, "Happy?" 

Cas frowns, "That suggestion was to make _you_ happy." 

And despite it all Dean laughs because, really? "You uh, you don't get out much, do you Cas?" 

Cas seems to catch on a little because he smiles weakly, "When people learn your brother killed most of your family they look at you differently." He says quietly. "You're one of the only people that hasn't." He admits quietly. 

Dean's not entirely sure what he's meant to say to that but he knows from Sammy's stupid drama shoes that this is where the slow music starts up and Dean loses interest, luckily he's spared from awkward glances and _whatever_ the hell is building up in his gut by someone clearing their throat. 

A chill runs up his spine.

She's small and blonde, big blue eyes and chubby cheeks - the kind of kid you see in catalogues and on adverts. Her dress looks expensive, white and pink and blood spattered. _Lilith_ . When Dean had dreamt of her she had sung lullabies and cut into his chest with a kitchen knife. 

"Hi, Dean!" She beams, "And Cas! Luc said you were here but I didn't believe him! You're cuter than I imagined." She cocks her head, "You look a little like Michael, did you know? I don't like Michael much. He's only fun when I can catch him." 

Cas' jaw clenches and he moves to stand between Lilith and Dean a move that isn't lost on her, she giggles and its the most chilling thing Dean's ever heard. "So _cute_! My daddy did that for mommy, he thought he could protect her. I killed him first." 

Dean stands, "What do you want with us?"

Lilith laughs again, "Oh, _Dean_! It's not about what _I_ want, silly! This is all about what the _house_ wants."

 _The house._ Well, Lilith laughing is officially the runner up in 'creepiest shit Dean's ever heard'. Cas draws closer to him and Dean glowers at the girl, "Let us out of here you little psycho." 

"What! You want to leave already? But you haven't even played with us yet Dean!" 

"Where's my dad?" He demands.

Lilith shrugs, "I dunno, guess you'll have to find him! But be careful, Dean, there are people in here that aren't half as fun as I am! Count to ten, Dean!" She vanishes with a giggle and all at once there's the sound of a hundred doors slamming. 

The living room door swings open with a loud creek. 

-

Sam spots his Mom's car when he's still ten minutes away from their house. He goes to duck into shop but its too late, she's seen him. "Samuel Winchester!" She yells, throwing open the car door and grabbing his arm before he can wriggle away. "What on earth are you playing at?" 

"Lemme go Mom! We can talk about this later!" He yells, yanking his arm out of her grip. At least she's not crying. Although, she's less scary when she's crying, Mary Winchester angry is _terrifying_. 

"No! We will talk about this right now, young man!" She grabs him again, gentler this time and okay, maybe she _is_ crying. "Sam, _please_ , you have to let me help you." 

He wants to yell at her, they didn't want to help him when he _needed_ help, he doesn't need them now; he has Luc. But he doesn't have time for this! "Mom, we don't have time! Dean texted - I think there's something wrong, like really wrong!" 

His mom's grip goes slack, "What?" 

"He sent me a text telling me not to come home! There _has_ to be something wrong! I keep trying to phone but it keeps ringing out!" 

She stares at him for a few moments, eyes wide and then, "Get in the car, Sam. Keep trying Dean's number, your father's too." 

In the car Sam tells her everything he's found out about their house, he's not sure if he actually believes in ghosts but there's definitely something odd about the house and with its history Sam wouldn't be surprised. It actually makes sense; the strange noises, the doors opening on their own. His mom gets paler but Sam figures she's just worried that these are part of his imagined problems or something. 

The house is quiet as they pull up and Sam scrambles out before the car actually comes to a halt. "Dean! Dean!" He hits the front door a little too hard, dropping his keys in hast. His mom appears while he's scrabbling for them, "Honey, let me." She pushes the key in and tugs at the handle. "It won't _open_." She grits her teeth and tugs again. 

Sam moves forwards, "Let me try." It doesn't work. It feels like something's holding the door shut.

"Back door," his mom suggests, voice trembling a little. 

Sam already knows it won't work. The windows are jammed shut too and no matter how much they yell all they get is a very loud shhh! from Garth's mom. "We should call the police," he says, he's panicking now because Dean and Dad and Adam are _in_ there. "They could bust down the door?" 

His mom shakes his head, "They won't, what would we say anyway?" Her face is drawn, pale. "We'll have to smash a window." She says decisively. " The kitchen ones are big enough for us to both get through." Sam nods and follows her back round to the other side of the house. 

"There's an axe by the shed," his mom says, "Can you go get it?" He stares at her for a few minutes before trotting off obediently. This is a new side to his mom, she's never been weak but he's never seen her like this, determined and battle ready. When he gets back to her she's picked out a window and rolled up the sleeves of her paint-stained shirt. "Ready?" She asks.

Sam nods and raises the axe ready to -

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you." 

Sam almost drops the axe as he spins around, " _Luc_?" 

Luc grins, "Hi, Sammy." 

\- 

The house is alive around them again but this time it's not just sounds, they can actually _see_ people now. Ghosts, echoes. Whatever you want to call them. Adam is blissfully asleep and Cas has armed himself with a fire poker. "What? I saw it on a website, these guys teach you all about fighting ghosts. Iron repels evil." At Dean's quirked eyebrow he shuffles awkwardly and adds, "They're called the Ghostfacers or something, look them up if you don't believe me." 

"The _Ghostfacers_?" Dean repeats as they shuffle into the hallway cautiously - a woman with dark hair and a squalling baby passes them and vanishes through a wall - Dean suddenly wishes he had a poker. "They mention anything else?" He asks, staring after the woman. 

Cas shakes himself, "Uh, yeah. Um. Salt." 

"Salt. Right. Kitchen then." 

"Wait, you should stay here." Cas says, "Let me check it out first." And with that he sidles down the corridor, brandishing the poker like a sword. He returns a few minutes later with a box of salt looking a little green. "There was a man in there, Jack Montegomery, he ate three people before the police shot him." 

_Lovely._ "Did he...? Did you have to...?" Dean makes a vague stabbing motion and Cas shakes his head.

"No, he just... Well, carried on with his meal." 

"Good times. So how about we find my dad and get the hell out of here?"

Cas swallows, "That would be wonderful."

The basement door is the one closest to them (but Dean can't help but remember dying over and over in that dark room), "Shall we maybe start upstairs?" 

Cas nods.

-

"What are you doing here, Luc?" His mom asks, placing herself between Luc and Sam.

"Mom," Sam begins, "What are you...?" But he trails off as Luc spreads his hands, "Calm down Mrs Winchester! I was just dropping by to see if Sammy needed any help with his homework." 

_Sammy?_ Luc knows he hates that. Luc never calls him that. 

"Now, what are you two doing back here with _that_?" He asks, arching an eyebrow at the axe.

Sam exchanges a glance with his mother, "Uh. We're trying to get in." 

Luc chuckles, "Are front doors not good enough for you?" 

"We're locked out," Mary snaps. "Dean and John are in there with - with the baby." 

"Well, of course they are. As they should be. But like I said, you _really_ don't want to do that." 

_What._

"Get behind me Sam," his mom says and then she's pulling a _fucking_ knife from somewhere and Luc is laughing again. "Awh, come on now, Mary. You know that won't do a _thing_ to me."

"I had it made specially," his mom says, raising the blade. "It's got rock salt in it. Iron too." 

"I didn't know you had in you," Luc almost purrs. "I heard you were one of the Campbell's, one of the best. I thought you were little more than a snivelling housewife. Guess I was wrong."

"Sam, I need you to get to the car," she says, ignoring Luc. 

"But - but -" his brain hasn't caught up yet, hasn't processed whats going on - why does his mom have a knife? They can't leave. Dad and Dean are still in there! "But what about -?" 

"There's nothing we can do for them from here, we need to go so we can help them," his mom is speaking slowly but the words don't make any sense. 

"Oh, Mary, planning a little trip to the graveyard? Do you _really_ think that will work? You must have realised by now that I'm - well, _we're_ , not exactly _normal_." 

"Mom?" Sam's voice sounds weak even to his own ears, "Mom? What's he talking about?" 

"Oh, Sammy, Sammy, _Sammy._ So naive." Luc takes a step towards them, "You know, I liked you. I really did. That's why I wanted you to stay here with me. This isn't the way I wanted it to happen though, I wanted it to be your choice. But I suppose this works too." He takes another step towards them and Mary pushes Sam backwards. 

"Stay behind me," she says but then Luc flicks his wrist and she goes flying into the wall. 

"Mom!"

Luc's advancing on him and he raises his axe ready to - god, he doesn't know what. He doesn't get this, doesn't understand - his head hurts and he doesn't _understand_. 

But then there's someone standing between them, a tall, dark haired man.

"Stop this Luc," the man says firmly. 

Luc _giggles_ , "Michael, shouldn't you be helping our lost little boys? They'll have a hard time otherwise." 

"I have someone helping them." Michael says shortly. 

"Lovely. Now, do me a favour, _bro_. Get out of the way so I can talk with Sam, there."

Michael glances back at Sam and Sam realises he recognises him from somewhere... The stern green eyes, the neat dark hair. "I'm so sorry," he says and Sam wants to ask _why_ but his mouth doesn't seem to be cooperating right now. Michael leans forward and grasps Luc by his shoulders who helps angrily and then - 

\- they're gone. 

They just _vanish_.

Sam kind of wants to scream. He falls backwards against the house, slides down till he's sat on the ground (he's crushing his mom's azaleas - he should move.) He's shaking. Luc was - Luc _is_ \- and _Michael_ \- and, he sits bolt upright, "Mom!?" 

And then she's there, bending down in front of him, putting her arms around him and rocking him gently. "I'm fine, Sam. I'm fine, you're fine. We're okay. We're okay." 

_School_ , Sam realises dimly, _the trophy case._ That's where he knows Michael from. He'd been valedictorian of the class that graduated in 1992, captain of several teams. He'd died in an accident or, no, he'd been _murdered_. He'd been murdered in 1995. 

It clicks into place.

 _Some kid in his last year_ , Ruby had said, _shot most of his family and then came in and shot a bunch of kids._

He'd glimpsed the cover story of the next paper before Dean had texted, _**L.A teen massacres family and friends.**_ He'd even seen the _picture_. Maybe he'd ignored it. Hadn't wanted to see it. 

_Luc_ was - 

"Mom," he mumbles because she seems to know something. She has that _knife_ and - and _graveyards._ "Mom," he says louder.

She pulls back, hands on his shoulders, holding him steady, "Sam, we can talk about this later. Right now we need to find a way to help your dad and your brothers. Now, I need to know if you're okay. Are you okay, Sam?"

 _No_ , Sam is most defiantly not okay but right now Dean and Dad and Adam need him. He swallows. Nods. "What do we need to do?"

-

They move through the house slowly, cautiously, Cas waving the poker about, Dean slinging salt. So far they've managed to avoid anyone too vicious. _Thank God for small mercies._

They're in an unused upstairs bedroom, his mom had been fixing it up to rent out. "He's not in here," Dean mutters, running his hand through his hair. Cas pats him on the back gingerly. "We'll find him, Dean. This house isn't that big." 

"It's big enough," Dean snaps. It's a big house and Luc's dangerous. They've got to find his dad before something happens to him - if it hasn't already. "We need to get going." 

Cas follows him. "Dean, you know statistically we probably won't get out if here alive." He says quietly, Dean seriously considers punching him in the face. 

"Come on, Cas, you've studied this house. You can get us out of here, right? I mean not _everyone_ who lived here died. That's gotta count for something." 

"Yes, that is true."

They cross in to another empty bedroom, salt at the ready, "So, any pointers from survivors?" Dean asks softly. 

"Well, my mother used to say it wasn't Luc that was evil; it was the house. She said that the house changed him," Cas mumbles, running his hand along the plastic sheeting still covering the furniture. It's covered in a thick layer of dust and Cas frowns momentarily at the dirt on his finger before brushing it off, "That's what a lot of the survivors said. Mrs Montgomery, the girl who escaped Alastair, a few others. All of them said that it was the house that changed their would be killers."

 _Comforting._

"Then there are the ones who lived here safely, they all said the same thing too: the house didn’t want them."

"Jesus." Dean sighs. “Well, maybe we’ll get lucky and the house won’t want _us_ either.” 

They’re leaving the spare room, “All that’s left up here is the attic. That’s where Lilith was found. You know, they never found out who killed her.” Cas says helpfully as they ascend the stairs.

“You know, it would be really helpful if you could stop reminding me of all they morbid goings on in this house for like five minutes, okay?” 

Cas starts to say something as Dean pushes the door open but whatever it is is lost as Dean takes in the scene before him - Lilith, less creepy is sat in the middle of the room at a low table, surrounded by dolls and tea cups. There’s a man sat opposite her but Dean can’t see his face.

“Your grandaddy took away your doll? That’s not very nice,” the man is saying.

Lilith shrugs, “He says it was because I hit Mildred Hodgins with it but she called me dumb so I had to hurt her! Just like you told me.” 

The man chuckles, “That’s right, good girl. She needed to be punished, right? So now who needs punishing?”

Lilith grins, “Grandaddy!”

The scene dissipates, Dean’s left staring at an empty room and then Lilith appears, bloodied dress, her good old self. “Uh, oh, looks like you found me!” she sing-songs. “But look who I found!” she snaps her fingers and then his dad is there, pale but _alive_.

“DEAN!” he yells, “Run, Dean! Now!” He starts towards them but Lilith tuts and snaps again and ropes appear - weaving themselves around John until he stumbles and falls, sprawling across the dusty floorboards. Lilith flicks her wrist and a gag appears.

“Dad!” Dean cries, running towards him, he’s almost there when his shirt snags on something. He turns and it’s Cas. “What the hell? Lemme go, Cas!”

Cas is staring in front of them, wordlessly he points. 

Dean turns slowly.

Luc is standing next to Lilith but he looks different, pale and sweating slightly, not the smug prick that fucking seduced Dean’s baby brother. He’s facing away from them, head bowed, standing in front of the man that had been talking to Lilith. 

There’s a rifle in his hands. 

He’s holding it loosely, awkwardly, like he can’t quite get the feeling for it. 

“I - I don’t know,” he says and Dean realises with a jolt that Luc’s _crying_. “Maybe if I tell Michael he’d - ”

“Oh, come now, Lucius. You know Michael would only laugh at you, after all who are you to him? You’re the screw up. He’s the star, Dad’s favourite. Think about it, they all have their place; Michael, the star, Gabriel and Balthazar, jokers, Raphael, the caring one, Anna, the smart one, Cas, the baby. And then there’s you. You get straight A’s but do they notice?”

Luc raises his head a little, “No…”

“You could be _anything_ , you know. But do they care? _Nope._ To them you’re the weirdo. They’re as bad as the kids from school. And if you don’t stop them, if you don’t show them what you’re capable of… well they’ll never value you - you know that right?”

Luc rubs at his eyes angrily, “You’re right.” he says dryly. “If I don’t do this my dad’ll leave, I’ll have to stay with _Michael_ ordering me about.” 

The man touches Luc’s shoulder, “That’s right. And we can’t have that, now can we?” 

Luc grins and vanishes and then he’s standing beside Lilith, smug as ever. Holding a rifle. “Awh, guess you found me too.”   
Cas is trembling but his grip is steady. “Let my dad go you sick freaks!” Dean yells - voice shaking almost as much as Cas is. 

Luc ignores him, “You know, I used this rifle to kill my family, Dean. Went room to room and took them out, _bang, bang, bang._ None of them fought back, they were all awake though, I got to watch them die. Anna begged, you know? Raphael didn’t, he just stared at me. Gabriel and Balthazar tried to talk their way out of it.”

“Well, it was too late,” Lilith breaks in with a smile up at Luc.

“Yes. Far too late. Mom cried. Dad too. Pathetic man. Michael though, Michael always had to be _different_ , never was happy with being normal. He told me he loved me so I shot him in the face.”

A gunshot echoes through the house and Dean _leaps_ backwards. Adam jolts awake and starts wailing. 

“You…” Cas is snarling, shaking with anger. “You… sick _fuck_!”

“ _Well,_ you certainly have Balthazar’s mouth.” Luc laughs.

“Let my dad go,” Dean says again as he shushes Adam. “ _Please._ ” he adds, weakly. His dad is gazing up at them, eyes wide, _run_ Dean thinks he must be saying. _Run._

Luc and Lilith share a look and Lilith giggles. 

“Maybe,” Luc says finally. “He’s not who we want anyway.”

“What’ll you give us for him?” Lilith asks, grinning excitedly.

Dean steps back, “Uh, I -”

He doesn’t get to finish because there’s a loud bang and Luc and Lilith both look up, surprised and vanish.

Dean is frozen for a few moments because _what_ but then his brain kicks back into gear and he drops to untie his dad.

Cas stands where Dean left him, hands balled into fists, blinking away angry tears. “You okay?” Dean asks gruffly because okay, he knows that Cas _isn’t_ okay but that’s not really what he’s asking. He’s asking if Cas is gonna freak or do something stupid.

Cas sniffs and takes a very long breath. “I’m fine.” he says eventually.

Dean nods and pulls out his father’s gag. John splutters and sits up, putting one hand on Dean’s shoulder and stroking Adam’s cheek with the other, “Are you okay?” he asks. 

“We’re fine,” Dean nods. John’s bleeding from a cut on his forehead but he looks alright otherwise. He closes his eyes in relief, “Thank God,” he says, tightening his grip on Dean’s shoulder.

“What about your mother? Sam?”

“They’re not in here,” Dean says. “I told Sammy to stay out for a while.”

John nods, “Good. Now let’s get working on a way out of here.”


End file.
